The Demon Lord's Bride (BL)-Chapter 664: Teathrical stage needs a lot of preparation

Any good deception comes from good preparation. Naturally, a theatric performance would need good props.

So that was what we started with: prop making.

The most important thing in this whole fakery was the item at the center of the rumor: yep, the Sacred Spear. We had to ensure the church’s agents saw the ’sentient spear’ in question.

Naturally, we couldn’t use the real one, so we had to make a substitute. One that would be carved with a lot of formations so a magician could control it from afar, and most importantly, looked like the old, unawakened Sacred Spear.

Yeah, not Avleitya after he synchronized with my druid lineage, but the spear Valmeier used in the war.

The problem was...none of us really remembered it. I had to dig into Valmaier’s memory, but it wasn’t like he spent extensive time staring at the spear. It was embedded inside his arm and had a self-purifying property, so there was no need for him to take it out for maintenance. When he did take it out, it was to fight, so the view was blurry because his eyes were constantly moving to focus on the enemy.

And so, we had to gather some people who had seen the Sacred Spear in the past and pitched our vague memories together. A prop committee, if you must. Natha even asked the Lord of Wrath to send over a demon who had seen or fought me in the past. It was chaotic and...fun?

Yeah, this was unexpectedly fun. Perhaps because I knew this was done to bait the seventh relic’s appearance, it felt more purposeful. I didn’t have to feel guilty about it, because it could be considered progress.

"Hmm... I don’t think this part is that extravagance."

"Should we add some nicks and dirt so it looks old and used?"

"Wait--the blade shouldn’t be that shiny. Make it seem like it had been used for nine years!"

The ’committee’ was filled with all kinda of debate from the sketch-making stage to creating the actual prop. Well, I called it a prop, but it was actually a pretty decent spear. The most difficult part was looking for a green jewel close enough in color to the original one, but with less luster.

Ugh. I had a new respect for people who had to create props for historical dramas and movies. There was a different kind of pressure when you had to make a replica, rather than springing something completely novel. The watchful gaze of the historian supervising the project was nearly suffocating.

In this case, the historian supervisor was the evolved version of the Sacred Spear; yep, Alveitya itself.

If you hadn’t figured it out, Alveitya was petty, naggy, and had a bit of a narcissistic side. It kept hovering around us ever since the sketch-making, and if there was something it deemed wrong, it would buzz and make a fuss.

"Hey, you do know we are trying to make your old, unawakened appearance, don’t you?" I found myself arguing a lot with this spear because...well, I was the only one who could understand all of its complaints. "What do you mean it’s not pretty enough?"

We bickered back and forth up until the spear was made, and even though Alveitya still had several minor complaints, it finally deemed the spear decent enough. Ugh. What a diva.

And that was only the first of the problem.

Next was a whole drama about sketching my face so an accurate disguise could be made. The church would probably send someone who knew how I looked like in the past--perhaps even one of the Hero’s old companions--so an accurate representation should be made.

For this, I was grateful that the ponytail guy who saw me could no longer give testimony. Otherwise, there would be a disparity between his testimony and what the people from Lenaar remembered.

Due to the time constraint, we could not afford them getting all confused. They had to be able to recognize me right away, so we couldn’t use my current appearance as a basis.

Shapeshifter could only turn into something they understood well--just like with Druid and fusion--so they had to know the exact shape they should take.

First, by making a sketch of how I looked when I was still skinny and sick. The one who took upon this task was, of course, the person who looked at my face most often: my husband.

I had a high faith in him, but...I think it was a mistake.

Staring at the sketch in my hand, I looked up and stared at his proud smile. "Nat, don’t you think you’re being too...biased?"

His smiley face turned into a frown. "What do you mean? I know your face even if I were to turn blind!"

"No, being blind is not the problem here," I shook my head, sighing as I put the sketch on the table. "You just put too much filter in my face."

I knew I was quite dense and lacked self-awareness, but even I knew I did not look that good--at any rate, not while I was sick and hadn’t been eating properly for two months. It wasn’t even the problem about being poor; I just could not eat.

So, I knew--even if I rarely looked in the mirror during that time, I knew that I wouldn’t have this kind of healthy cheeks. I could barely sleep from the pain and think about the cure for my dying ass, so there was no way I had those sparkling eyes with no dark circles and sunken sockets.

Also, umm...it was rather embarrassing to admit, but I couldn’t wash myself that often. It was painful; it was double painful to take a shower with cold water; it was triple painful because it was a freaking winter over there.

So, this nice-looking hair with amazing luster? Nuh-uh, Mister, you were out of your goddamn mind.

"Don’t draw me with your rose-tinted glasses," I told his sullen-looking ass. Natha clicked his tongue, and I turned to Heraz. "What about you? Someone stationed in Lenaar should know what I used to look like."

I wanted to ask Angwi too, but she only saw me after I was healed by Amrita the next morning. While I wouldn’t have the weight and shape I have now, my complexion would be far better that morning compared to the night when I was still sick and miserable.

"Uhh...I could try, Young Master."

"Do it. I don’t have faith in this guy."

Natha gasped, and Arta laughed her ass off before taking over the sketch paper to modify it based on Heraz’s correction. While they did, I had to go and appease my sulky husband.

"Your memory sucked," I pinched his nose, before plopping on his lap. "But thank you...to see me in that way even when I was at my worst."

"You’re always pretty to me," he pursed his lips and pulled me tight so my back touched his chest.

I laughed and gave him a peck as a praise. After Shwa’s consistent tantrums whenever I left his sight when he was awake, I learned to take any chance I got to stay with Natha while Shwa was asleep. Thus, I had no time to be embarrassed for doing stuff like this even in front of others.

At the very least, I no longer had to hold him while he was sleeping. In fact, I could place him in the bassinet with a blanket that had been infused with my mana. As long as he saw me within five minutes of waking up, he wouldn’t cry and scream in protest anymore.

A little progress. Surely before long, he could handle having me gone for a few days again.

The good news was that if the church truly had the pearl, I didn’t need to move from the Demon Realm until the day we decided to snatch the pearl. At that time, it would be the final battle--most likely--so we had a bit of leeway. A month, I think, since I wanted to have enough time to think of an alternative in case our plan fell through.

When Natha was finally appeased enough, Arta and Heraz gave me a final sketch to peruse. This time, the hair was softer and stiff, the area around my eyes was a bit sunken and dark, and my face got thinner overall. I also told her that my skin should be paler and the lips should be slightly dry, before giving an okay.

"Uhh..." Arta stared at the final sketch and suddenly dropped to the floor to hug my lower half.

"What are you doing?" I patted her head in confusion.

"You-Young Master...you did well," she let out a choked sob. "Thank you...for surviving..."

Oh...I laughed and patted her head again. Yeah, I was also proud of myself for not giving up at that time. Honestly, there was a time when I thought I should just have fallen asleep and never woke up again--I mean...I died not long before anyway.

But I was glad that I got pissed enough at the world that I made a promise to myself to try my best to stay alive, to find the clue in my scattered memories about the book, and found a path to Natha. I was grateful that he came right away before it was too late for me.

And so, I would never give up again. Whether it was about me or my family, I would not give up.

Please, please, please let the seventh relic be in the church. It would save us a lot of time and, more importantly...

I would have enough justification to beat those people’s ass.

Oh, and Natha would get his war.